


Unlucky Charm

by rumpledspinster



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Legend of Barney Thomson (2015), The Long Midnight of Barney Thomson - Douglas Lindsay
Genre: F/M, Good Friends, accidental murder, devoted relationships, severe unluckiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:38:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6763699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledspinster/pseuds/rumpledspinster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barney and Belle share an unlucky star. Belle finds herself in an unsettling situation, but her devoted boyfriend Barney and his faithful friends are there to see her through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlucky Charm

**Author's Note:**

> This short story is a Once Upon A Time crossover with the Barney Thompson book series by Douglas Lindsey.

*"I'm an unlucky charm...don't go anywhere with me."-- Sophie Turner

Barney could scarcely believe it. When he had returned to civilization and turned himself in to the police he had expected to be thrown in irons, lashed within an inch of his life, in the least smacked a couple of times with a baton. But to his utter surprise and confusion he had been turned away. Apparently the police had enough Barney Thomsons. To Barney's dismay he learned that no less than three hundred "Barneys" had been clamoring to take the blame for all the evils of the world. He was at a loss, but then like a bolt out of the blue he saw it. A sign as if from God, but also an actual sign. It read: Barber shop for sale, inquire within.

  
Two months later and Barney felt better than he had in years. He was once again doing what he loved. The comb and scissors were like an extension of his arms and he wielded them with the artistry of a Renaissance master and the precision of a brain surgeon. He was in his element and once again he was creating haircuts worthy of the great heroes of the ancient world. His days were filled with the snip of scissors, the smell of watered down conditioner and gel, and the glide of a comb through detangled locks. However, his evenings were filled with thoughts of Belle.

 

After he had been working in the shop for a month, a bakery opened up across the street. He hadn't paid it much mind at first, but then there came a day when a particularly delicious smell had wafted across the street to the sidewalk on which Barney was taking his break, and as if he were a character in a cartoon, the scent lifted him up off his feet and carried him through the door of the bakery depositing him gently in front of the cash register. He had seen her as if in a dream. A beautiful vision of a woman shrouded in a misty fog of vanilla. She had noticed his jacket and the scissors and comb he kept within his pocket, "You work across the street?"

 

Barney found himself unable to speak at first, but finally words returned to him though not in the right order. "Oh aye, street across barber I am." The vanilla goddess giggled, "My name is Belle. Pleased to meet you barber from across the street."

Finally, Barney had regained use of the language center of his brain, "Barney! My name is Barney."

Again she smiled, but this smile was shy and her eyes gazed down at the counter demurely, "What can I get you Barney?"

Barney wanted to say 'you naked and covered in frosting', but instead he asked for a pastry. Belle served it warm and asked if he minded if she sat with  
him as he ate. It was her break and she would be glad of the company. He nodded and together they shared a pot of tea and talked about everything and nothing.

 

As the weeks had worn on he and Belle had become friends. At least he hoped she thought of him as a friend. They seemed to get on well, but maybe he was misreading her. After all he hadn't had much luck when it came to the fairer sex. Then of course he had made what he was now sure was the mistake of sharing his misadventures with her. Sure she had nodded, and seemed to be sympathetic but Barney was no fool. He knew how crazy his past must sound and who could ever believe that someone could be a death magnet? But still he dreamed.

He dreamed of a day when he could call Belle his. She would hide in the shelter of his arms and look up at him like he was the amazing hero that he felt like he was when he was cutting hair. Little did Barney know that today was the day that his dream would come true. He had closed up the shop and made his way  
across the street and into the alley that ran behind the bakery. It had become their routine. He would close up and head over to the bakery. Operating hours would be over, so he would enter through the back kitchen entrance. He would keep Belle company as she prepped for the following day, then they would head to one or the other’s flat and share a dinner over t.v. But tonight was different.

 

As he turned down the alley he felt a chill come over him. The hair on his arms and neck stood on end as a chill trickled down his spine sending ice water through his veins. He heard the loud whir of an engine and under the sound, barely noticeable, he heard Belle screaming.

 

*Is There a Barber in the House?

 

Belle had always been a bit of a klutz. A broken dish here and there. A spill, a fall, but in the past couple of weeks she felt as if her klutziness had intensified. Ever since the day she met Barney she had felt as if a wide streak of bad luck had smacked her on the back. It was as if she was that cat in the cartoon with the skunk, the one who gets a big stripe painted down its back, but instead of paint it was danger. It was as if the universe had decided that Barney made her too happy and thus the balance of happy and unhappy had been thrown off.

Although, it hadn't all been bad. There had been one evening when Barney had come in to find that she was balanced on a wobbly chair attempting to hang an "order here" sign, that she had overbalanced and felt herself toppling backward toward the cement floor. She had braced herself for the cold, hard, unrelenting cement only to find herself in Barney's strong, warm arms. She had wanted to kiss him then. Well to be honest she had wanted to kiss him long before that, but she wasn't completely sure that Barney was interested in her in that way. It was obvious that he cared about her, but he didn't look at her the way men who had been interested in her in the past had looked at her. Although, to be fair, the men in the past who had looked at her as if they were interested had turned out to be complete arses.

All these thoughts had been floating about in her head as she had set up the new industrial mixer. She plugged the machine in and was just about to add the bread dough to the vat of a mixing bowl when she realized that she had not fitted the dough hook. Belle stepped down from the step ladder on which she had been standing (Belle was so wee that she regularly need two steps just to be waist height to the counter, but in order to lean over the new mixer she needed four).

She retrieved the hook from the counter, climbed the steps, leaned over the edge of the massive mixing bowl, and began to fit the hook attachment. She could almost reach, she just needed a few more inches. She leaned over the edge of the bowl, her feet lifting off of the step. Just as she had the attachment locked in place, she felt herself over balance. As she fell head first into the stainless steel mixing bowl her flailing hand hit the switch and the hook began to spin. It angrily grabbed the silken ringlets of her hair and began to twist and wind them unrelentingly. Her hair was caught in between the hook and the machine, permanently tangled and knotted. Belle screamed out in agony.

 

Barney felt as if the alley before him were stretching as he ran. Yet at last he reached the door of the bakery's kitchen and saw Belle's legs flailing erratically out of the very large stainless steel bowl. Barney rushed over to the machine, hands fluttering helplessly as Belle's screams filled his ears, scarring them so as to stay permanently etched in his mind. He couldn't find the switch, but in his frantic search he glanced upon the power cord and with a swift yank it pulled from the socket and the whirring of the machine ceased.

 

"Belle!" Barney yelled, concern bleeding from the words as he leaned over the bowl, steadying Belle's legs with his arm. Belle couldn't speak. Her vision was blurred, tears streamed down her face and chest as she sobbed and wailed in pain. Barney tried to detach the hook, but it wouldn't budge, and the movement only served to pull Belle's hair tauter.

Belle pleaded, "Please! Cut it! Please just cut it Barney! I trust you." Belle's impassioned words and continued sobs were enough to convince Barney. He unsheathed his scissors from his pocket as Arthur might have removed Excalibur from the stone, and with the utmost care he began to snip at Belle's once majestic locks.

 

As Barney continued to cut Belle free he couldn't help but weep. Her hair had been like that of a goddess. It was a work of art, a sunset. He knew very little of hairdressing, but he knew enough of hair to see Belle’s for the majesty that it was and he was defiling it. He felt as if he were taking a box cutter to the Mona Lisa. As his ungodly job neared completion, Belle's sobs had finally subsided, dissolving into quiet whimpers.

Belle could feel Barney's strong hands snake underneath her arms and lift her out of the bowl. He helped her down the steps of the ladder and sat her on her feet. She turned in his embrace, hands on his chest, she pressed herself against him as if trying to hide from the world.

Barney was at a loss for what to do. For a moment he simply held out his arms as if trying to stop a speeding train. Then, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her holding her to him. He whispered against her now mangled hair, "I'm so sorry! So sorry!" But then something he never would have expected happened. Belle looked up at him as she did in his dreams.

Her eyes shining with reverence and love. "You saved me. Like a prince rescuing a long haired princess from a dank, dark tower. You are my hero. The barber who saved the maiden fair by cutting her hair." Belle sniffled as she smiled up at him, and it was in that moment that Barney realized that Belle loved him. It was the only explanation because anyone in their right mind who had received a haircut the likes of which Belle had suffered at his hand would have been fuming, but Belle was holding him and gazing up at him as if he were the most amazing sight in all the world. He was her hero. Without allowing himself time to over think it, he leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss, and to his appreciative surprise she returned the kiss in earnest.

 

That night he had helped her close up and drove her home. Once in her flat, he ushered her to bed with a glass of water and Nurofen. She obediently took the medicine and laid down on the bed. Barney fluffed her pillows for her and retrieved a bag of frozen peas from the freezer, wrapping it in a tea towel before placing it atop her head. Barney returned to the kitchen and set a pot of pasta to cooking. He then rustled through the cabinets and found a tin of sauce. Dinner was nearly done when Belle came into the kitchen. "I'm going to take a shower love." Barney nodded as Belle approached him. She rose up on tip toes and kissed him on the cheek, nuzzling him with her nose before returning to earth. She then retreated to the bathroom.

 

A short time later, Belle returned just as Barney had poured the sauce over the drained noodles. "What do you think?" Barney turned and felt his mouth hang open in amazement. Somehow Belle had taken the tattered remains of her hair, the wasteland that he had left her, and had reformed it into a stylish bob that seemed to float around her face giving her an angelic glow.

Belle smiled at his reaction. She strode forward on bare feet wearing an oversized t-shirt and wrapped her arms around him, once again nuzzling against his stomach. Barney could feel his tongue begin to droop forth out of his mouth, drool pooling under his tongue at the sight of her slight form wrapped around his. He quickly gulped down the saliva as he ran a reverent hand over her soft, recently blow dried locks. He was becoming hard and Belle had noticed. "I take it you approve then?" Belle asked in a sultry voice before letting her right hand slide down to his bulge giving it a firm kneading with the heel of her hand. "Mmmmm," was all poor Barney could mutter. He was painfully hard now and couldn't help but buck against her hand. Belle took hold of the collar of his shirt and tugged at him, leading him to the bathroom. No sooner had she gotten him into the small space that she began to undo his belt buckle.

  
In a flash his trousers were around his ankles and her fingers were nimbly tugging on the waistband of his pants.  
Barney was biting his lips as Belle's fingers ghosted over his skin. She pulled his pants down oh so slowly, and Barney thought the anticipation might kill him. Then she took him in hand and began to squeeze him firmly and stroke him, her nails grazing the underside of him and sending little shocks through his nervous system. She pressed her breasts against his chest and he could feel her glorious curves through her flimsy t-shirt. Her mouth was worrying at the crook of his neck, marking him with gentle bites and sucks. He was so close, but then she whispered the words that split his inner atom sending a mushroom cloud of ecstasy pluming from his very soul. "I love you Barney. You are so wonderful, talented, kind, beautiful... and mine."

 

* A Fistful of Flour

 

Barney set down the last box of his things in Belle's front room. As he surveyed his earthly belongings he noted how meager they were. He had been living light as he had been on the run having adventures, but now that he was setting down roots with the woman of his dreams, the love of his life, he supposed that would be changing. A glance at the clock told him that Belle would be getting off work soon, so he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

 

At the local bakery, A Fistful of Flour, classical music filled the air as Belle was busily working away at shaping dough and setting it aside to rise. She especially enjoyed Sunday nights such as this when the store was closed to the public and it was just her, the smell of baked goods and the sound of her favorite radio program, Classics Unwrapped drifting through the air. Belle smiled as La Traviata, Act I began to play. But the lovely music was soon to be interrupted by Gareth Gaston, a brute of a man who just so happened to be a loan shark. A loan shark to whom Belle owed money.

 

"What is this shite?" Gareth shouted as he took a handful of flour from the open container on the counter and threw it unceremoniously at Belle's apron. "That is what we in the business call flour," Belle answered in as condescending of a tone as she could muster. "I know that! I meant the shite sound filling the air like a bag full of cats."

 

"It's classical music." Belle huffed, she had almost been done with cleaning and now she would need to clean up all over again. "Why are you here? I paid this month's payment with interest."

 

Gaston smirked, "Well I figure since you seem to be doing so well in this little business venture, we should reevaluate your loan."

 

Belle's face blanched, "What?! That's robbery! I'm already paying a lot more than I should, how dare you decide I owe you more?"

 

Gaston smiled sinisterly, "Well I would hate for something to happen to your bakery, or worse you and your boyfriend." Belle looked down at her flour covered apron dejectedly, "How much?"

 

"Well now, I think we'll just figure that out on a weekly basis. As for this week, let's say two hundred fifty."  
Belle wanted to argue, but she didn't see the point in it. That was a size-able chunk of her earnings, but she would make do. She had her bakery and Barney, that was all she needed to get by. "I'll go get your money." Belle headed out of the kitchen into the main part of the store to get money from the till.

 

Gaston thought he was being reasonable. After all, she need only sell more baked stuff. He looked at the large oven. Belle had it set to gas mark 4. Gaston scoffed, silly Belle, he thought, just turn up the heat and the bread would cook faster and you could make and sell more. Gaston cranked the oven up to gas mark 9. Belle returned cash in hand. "Here, take it and leave."

 

"Touchy, Touchy." Gaston didn't take the money from Belle, instead he closed the gap between them causing Belle to back up against the counter. Gaston reached over and turned up the volume on the radio, "I think that this week I'll take my payment in goods rather than cash."

 

Belle swallowed hard, "What do you want?"

 

Gaston leered down at her and Belle knew exactly what he wanted and it wasn't something she was willing to give. Belle stomped on his foot and tried to run toward the back door, but Gaston wrapped his large arms around her midsection and lifted her off the ground. She kicked at the air, but couldn't seem to make contact with his legs. He stumbled forward with her. Sensing her chance, she lifted her legs and pushed off of the edge of the counter, the force sending them both backward toward the oven.

Gaston hit the six-foot-long door handle of the oven with his back, the force knocking the wind out of him for a moment. He and Belle fell forward toward the counter as the oven door fell open. Ride of the Valkyries began to boom through the shop as Gaston dropped Belle. Belle tried to get back to her feet as fast as she could. She tried to make her way to the front of the shop. She had just rounded a large rolling steel table as Gaston began to lumber after her. Belle slipped on the now floury floor, falling backward and sending the steel table shooting off like a rocket against Gaston sending him tumbling backward. He regained his bearings at the foot of the open oven door. He made to walk forward only for him to slip on the floury floor falling backward, hitting his head on the edge of the open oven.

And as luck, or unluck, would have it his arse hit the oven door just right to send his now unconscious form sliding into the oven as the door bounced shut.

 

Barney let himself in the unlocked back door to the bakery and was taken aback by the sight before him. The radio was blaring what sounded like Requiem Mass in D minor, Dies Irae and the whole place looked as if a whirlwind had blown through it. His first thought was Belle. "Belle!" when his shout gained no response, he carefully walked over to the radio and turned it down. "Belle?"

 

"Barney!" Belle came bounding from the front room, sliding across the floury floor into his arms. Barney looked down at the top of Belle's head as she attempted to burrow into him.

 

"You're shaking like a leaf in a squall. What's happened?"

Belle sniffled and struggled for air. "Is-is h-he g-g-gone?"

  
Barney held Belle tight, "There's no one back here but us." Belle began to sob once more. Barney whispered calming susurrus as he led her to a booth in the front room of the bakery. Barney took off his jacket and wrapped it around Belle's shoulders. "Stay here love, I'll be right back."

Barney went behind the cash counter to where Belle kept all of the equipment and ingredients for the various drinks she made. He retrieved a mug and a bottle of scotch and returned to Belle. He poured a finger of the amber liquor into the mug and wrapped Belle's hands around it. "This will warm you. Try to relax." Belle gratefully downed the liquor before making a face, Belle was never much for alcohol. Barney poured another finger into her mug and urged her to speak. Belle told Barney what had happened and all about her dealings with Gareth Gaston.

Barney felt a headache coming on, "Why did you not tell me about this before?"

Belle shrugged, "I didn't want you to worry. I was almost paid up."

"He's a loan shark Belle. You'll never be paid up. Don't think on it any more tonight. I'll go clean up in the  
back for you right quick and then we'll go home."

Belle nodded gratefully before downing her finger of scotch in one cringing gulp.

 

Barney retrieved the shop vac from the utility closet and headed to the back of the shop. He made quick work of the floury floor, wiped down the counters and cabinets, before returning the shop vac to the utility closet and rinsing the filter in the utility sink. He took the tank of dusty flour back through the kitchen and out the back door, dumping it out in the alley. As he came back in the bakery he noticed what smelled like roasting meat. "Belle? When did you start making meat offerings?"

 

Belle walked into the backroom, "I haven't. I've thought about adding meat pies and pasties, but I haven't settled on recipes that I like yet."

 

"Then what smells like roast meat?"

Belle sniffed the air. Indeed, it smelled like a fatty roast of beef, then she saw the unbaked bread and dread began to wash over her. She looked at the oven noting that it was much too hot and reached a trembling hand out toward the door's long handle bar. Barney watched her reach for the door, noting the fear in her eyes and wondering at the cause for it. Belle opened the oven door in one swift action, looked into the fiery inferno and screamed as darkness overcame her and she felt herself fall as if she had been pushed off of Reichenbach Falls.

 

Belle was drowning as sure as if she had been thrown in the freezing Atlantic. She could feel the water crushing her chest as her blood turned cold.

"Belle? Belle can you hear me? Please open your eyes!" She could hear Barney's voice calling to her from far away. He sounded so scared, she wanted to shout to him here I am, but she couldn't find her voice. Then it was raining on her. She could feel warm rain drops on her cheeks. Slowly she regained feeling and realized that it was not rain, but Barney's tears dripping on her face. She opened her eyes to find that she was on the floor of the backroom being cradled in Barney's arms. Belle looked up into Barney's eyes, tears pooling in her own eyes, "I think I killed him."

 

*The Accidental Murderess

 

"Oh God Barn! I killed him! I'm a... what do they call female murderers?" Belle's eyes drifted up to the ceiling as if she would see the answer floating there.

"A murderess", Barney replied helpfully.

"Oh god you think I'm a murderess!" Belle began to sob once more.

"Ack! No Belle! You're no more a murderer than I am," Barney meant the words to be soothing, but to his dismay Belle just sobbed harder.

"Well that hurts." Barney muttered.

"Oh Barney! I didn't mean it the way you are thinking it! It's just...this is so...no one's going to believe me." Belle sniffled, having exercised all of her inner sobs.

"I believe you."

"I know you do Barney, but you don't count." Hurt colored Barney's face at her words leading Belle to quickly soothe him, "Oh Barney! I'm making a mess of everything! I'm just afraid! I'm going to go to prison. The police will never believe that this was an accident. How do you accidentally shove a person into an oven?! I did it and I don't have a clue!" Belle held her head in her hands as she felt a migraine begin to brew behind her eyes.

 

"We should still go to the police Belle. Trust me on this one. There were so many times while I was on the run that I thought how much happier I would be if I had just faced the music." Barney wrapped his warm arms around her and Belle leaned her head, resting it on his shoulder.

"You'll go with me right? I can't go alone." Belle's voice was but a quivering whisper.

 

"I'll not leave you." The fierceness of Barney's words gave Belle courage.

Belle gulped, "I guess we should go then."

 

The local police station was right across the way; in fact, it was right next to Barney's shop. The island of Millport Bay was a small one and it was a Sunday evening so naturally there was only a couple of officers on duty (even in a rush there were never more than a handful of them, one of the many reasons that Barney had come to love his new home). Barney and Belle walked into the local police station hand in hand. Barney was relieved to see that it was Sergeant Proudfoot on duty tonight (she was by far the most reasonable of the bunch). Proudfoot looked up from her cup of coffee, "Hey there Barney. What's happened?"

 

Belle tried to speak, "There...I... accident..." Proudfoot stared at Belle as if somehow staring might help her discern some meaning before finally turning to Barney, "What's she going on about?"

"Do you think we could talk about this in your office?" Barney asked apologetically.

 

"Yeah," Proudfoot led the way while a familiar feeling began to settle on her stomach, a feeling she knew as Barney Thomson has done it again.

 

After a few deep breaths and some sips of black police station coffee, Belle was able to recount her story. Proudfoot listened. She didn't interject and she wasn't judgmental. When the story was over and silence fell over the office, Proudfoot nodded, "Wow...you two are made for each other."

 

Proudfoot stood up, "Where's the body now?"

 

Belle's voice shook, "It's still in the oven. We turned it off though, so he's probably cool now."

 

Proudfoot shook her head, "Jesus Christ the two of you. I've known Barney going on years now and in that time I have thought to myself on many an occasion that he is probably the unluckiest person on the planet. It's as if there is a gremlin that just follows him around wreaking havoc, but wow...I think he has finally met his match."

Proudfoot turned her back to them, focusing her eyes on a spot on the carpet. "I tell you what. Belle, you gave Gaston the money and he left. You two went home for dinner just after Gaston left. You had dinner at your apartment with Igor, be sure he knows that. After dinner you came back to the bakery to put the bread in the oven and found Gaston in the oven."

Belle shook her head, "You don't have to cover for me DS Proudfoot. I'll take the blame."

 

Proudfoot shook her finger at the both of them, "Oh no you don't! I'm not dealing with another media circus if I can help it."

 

Barney nodded in agreement, "Proudfoot is right love. I know what the media is like. They aren't going to care about the truth. They are going to sensationalize and make you out to seem like some sort of cannibal baker."

 

Proudfoot nodded, "Let’s be even more proactive about this. I'll call the coroner; he owes me a favor.  
We'll take the body in and say that he was found in the moors. The guy wasn’t from around here and he wasn’t particularly well liked. Hopefully the news won’t make a big deal of it."

 

Barney helped Belle into the car. He made a quick call on his mobile and then they set off for home. Igor was already there when they arrived. Barney led them all into the modest flat and started a pot of tea. Igor, sensing that Belle needed support sat beside her on the couch. Barney handed Belle and Igor each a cup of tea. "I'm going to stop by the Bakery. I'll clean up the oven and bake the bread for you love. Igor will stay here with you."

Igor nodded and muttered, "Arf," and Belle knew it meant I'm here for you.

 

While Barney was gone Belle told Igor all about what had happened and what DS Proudfoot had said. Igor nodded in all the appropriate places. Wow, Belle thought, Igor is a really good listener.

 

* Send in the Clowns

 

Barney had hoped that the news of Gaston's death would go unnoticed, but unfortunately Millport was a small tourist town and there was nothing that such a town liked more than sensationalism. Within days the local papers had headlines connecting Gaston's death to jerky making cannibals, secret Mafia ties,  
and spontaneous human combustion. Then the circus came to town. The media circus. When Barney arrived at his shop he saw a line of seven of them waiting for him. His barber apprentice Keanu gave an apologetic nod, "I told them they would have to pay for a cut whether or not they got one."

 

Barney nodded, "Good lad." Igor pulled on Barney's coat, "Arf?" Barney knew what Igor wanted, he and Igor never needed words. "Aye, you can clean up in the back." Igor nodded gratefully and retreated out of sight.

  
All day long it was the same stupid questions. Was his mother a cannibal? Did she make him dress as a girl when he was wee? Did he cut the hair of a topless Uma Thurman? Barney dodged the ridiculous questions and with Keanu's help, he slipped out the back door and called Belle. Belle answered sounding out of breath. Barney immediately felt a twinge of worry. Belle seemed to be a magnet for bad luck and as such he always worried about her. "They were at the bakery Barney. They asked me all sorts of horrible questions about you and our relationship." Belle was crying again; she had been doing that a lot lately. Barney sighed, "Where are you now?"  
"I'm at the flat."

"Good. Pack our bags, we're spending the weekend up at Andrew's."

Within minutes Barney was home and thanking his lucky stars that the vultures had not yet descended. They quickly loaded the car and were off toward West Bay Road. They pulled up to the old Stewart Hotel and bags in hand quickly made their way into the Hotel lobby. There was the tinkling of glasses and cutlery coming from the attached restaurant. Andrew was heading back toward the kitchen when he saw them. "Mr. Thomson! And Ms. French! I was wondering when you two would show up."

Barney nodded, "So they've been here I take it?" Andrew nodded toward the restaurant, "Aye they have. Here," he handed them a key, "This is our most out of the way room. You needn't worry about leaving for anything. If you need something give me a ring." Barney and Belle nodded gratefully.

Andrew led them upstairs, past the landing down the hall and up another flight of stairs to the converted attic of the old Victorian. Andrew left them to open the door while he retrieved two bags of toiletries and fresh towels. Andrew smiled at them, "Here you are. I'll be up in a bit with some dinner for you. Fish and Chips for Mr. Thomson and beef and ale pie for Ms.French." Barney and Belle smiled a thank you as Andrew left the room.

The room had deep red, plush carpet and big windows with a view out over the sea to Little Cumbrae and the nuclear power station. Barney placed their suitcases on the bed and unpacked what they would need for the night. When he had finished and placed the bags into the closet, he turned to see that Belle was looking out the window seemingly deep in thought. The light in the room was dim, the bulbs in the bedside lamps not doing much in the way of lumen output. Barney carefully made his way across the darkened room to stand behind Belle. He wrapped his arms around her lovingly. She sighed in his embrace, "I never realized how much difference the night can make on the way things look."

"How do you mean love?"

"Well look at the nuclear plant. In the day it's a horrid eyesore, but at night the lights glisten off the water and you could almost pretend that it was a fairy castle."

Barney chuckled softly, "You've got a good imagination."

Just then Andrew arrived with their dinner. They ate heartily, washed up and headed to bed. That first night Belle's sleep was troubled. She woke more than once with a feeling of dread. She couldn't recall any of the details of her nightmares only small snippets and the way they made her feel. Barney noticed Belle's unease when she woke he with her tossing and turning. "Talk to me love," he soothed as he ran a hand through her hair.

Belle whispered, her own words sending a chill down her spine, "I keep seeing his face."

Barney held her, "I had the same trouble for many years."

"What made it stop?"

"I realized that what happened was well and truly an accident and that basically their numbers were up. Except that one time, but that was to save the lives of others."

Belle considered his words. Was she really a killer? No. She had known that all along, but then why did she feel guilty? Barney positioned Belle to lay in his arms. He held her to his chest, "Think about the individual things that you feel guilty about and we will talk through whether you are at fault for them or not."

They spent the next couple of hours talking and Belle was able to see her thoughts from the point of view of an outsider. She finally realized that what had happened was not her fault and that it didn't do well to dwell on things that cannot be changed. From that point on Belle felt as if a Gaston sized weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was able to enjoy their weekend away and revel in being able to spend all of it with Barney. And to their great relief it seemed that the papers had indeed moved on to another story as a new serial killer had made his presence known in Aberdeen.

Some months later and life was better than ever for the both of them. There was no way to explain their change in luck other than perhaps when two extremely unlucky people such as themselves fall in love, the universe can't help but take pity on them.

When Barney had proposed he had told Belle that he thanked both his lucky and unlucky stars that he had been led to her. Belle liked the sound of that. Perhaps we two unlucky charms will bring luck to each other, she had thought before he captured her mouth in a kiss.


End file.
